Trapped
by savagealias
Summary: What happens when Sherlock gets stuck in a room with Molly Hooper? Small one shot. Some romance and a small amount of angst.


_I need you. – SH_

_Really? What for? – Molly._

_A case. – SH_

_Where is John? Is he not able to help? – Molly._

_No. He is gallivanting around town with his new girlfriend. Please, stop asking inane questions and just come and help me. – SH._

_Alright. Where are you? – Molly._

_221B Baker Street. Do hurry. – SH_

Molly gave an exasperated sigh. It was her day off – her much needed day off. She was planning on curling up on her couch with a lovely book she had purchased at the book store the night before on her way home from work and not moving for the entire day. But, if one was in the company of Sherlock Holmes, one should know making plans is futile. So, Molly bookmarked the page she was on, got up and dashed into her bedroom and quickly changed out of her comfy tracksuit pants and oversized jumper and put on a pair of dark coloured jeans, black knee high leather boots, a nice dark blue button up top and her most recent splurge – a lovely leather jacket. She decided to leave her hair down, but put a hair tie on her wrist just in case she needed it. She gave herself a once over in the mirror, grabbed her keys from the table and rushed out the door.

Half an hour later found her at 221B Baker Street. She was about to knock when the door was suddenly pulled open. There stood Sherlock with his Belstaff coat, impeccable tailored suit (she couldn't help but notice he was wearing the infamous purple shirt she loved and adored), his dark blue scarf and his dazzling grey/blue eyes. He looked as if he were about to speak, when it seemed something had pulled him up short. He stood in the doorway, mouth slightly agape, and his eyes slowly wandered up and down Molly's body.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Molly cleared her throat. That seemed to bring him out of his reverie.

Sherlock shook his head as if to clear it, and then looked back at the pathologist. "Right. Let's go."

Sherlock swept out the door, pulling it closed behind him and stood at the kerb, hailing a cab. Molly wanted to ask Sherlock where they were headed, but after living with the man for six months before he ventured out to take down Moriarty's crime syndicate, she knew better than to ask. So, once the cab pulled up, Sherlock opened the door and ushered Molly in. He then climbed in himself and gave the cab driver the address of a local school.

* * *

Twenty minutes later found the consulting detective and the pathologist standing outside a locked maintenance room door just outside the science department. Sherlock was on bended knee, trying to pick the lock. Molly was keeping an eye out to make sure they wouldn't be disturbed. It was something that was not really needed as it was a Sunday, so they both knew no one in their right mind would want to be on school grounds.

It took Sherlock all of ten seconds to be able to pick the lock. He stood up, opened the door and proceeded to walk in. Molly looked up and down the hall one last time before she made her way into the room. Once in, Molly looked around for a light switch. She found it on the left hand side of the door and flicked it on. Molly looked around and was impressed by the size of the room. Sherlock was standing halfway in, obviously trying to look for whatever it was they were there for. Molly started walking towards him when suddenly Sherlock turned and rushed past her towards the door. The door clicked shut just as Sherlock had reached the handle.

Sherlock smacked his hand up against the door and hung his head. "**SHIT!**"

Molly turned and looked at him. She became quite alarmed. Sherlock _never_ swore. "What's wrong?"

Sherlock turned his head slightly and spoke with a low, cold voice. "Could you not see fit to hold something up against this door so it wouldn't shut?"

Molly started to cower. "N-no… why?" She answered in a small voice.

"We are now locked in."

Molly's eyes went wide. "Wh-what do you mean locked in? We-we can't be locked in!"

Sherlock turned and rounded on the small woman. "Well, Miss Hooper, we are indeed locked in. How could you not know the door can only be opened from the outside? But I suppose that's not your fault – only an idiot would install such a stupid locking mechanism at a school where access is needed all the time."

Sherlock then skulked his way to the other side of the room at sat down on a stool and leant up against a table, head facing skyward with his eyes closed and arms folded. Molly looked at him, then back at the door. She quickly pulled out her mobile to see if she had any reception so she could call out for help, but as luck would have it, she had no signal. She guessed Sherlock was in the same position, because he hadn't bothered to pull out his phone to call anyone for help either.

Molly ran her fingers through her hair. What were they going to do? They were stuck there until at least the next day when school resumed. And of course, it was only early morning, so they had the whole day and night to wait it out.

Molly wanted to laugh at the whole situation. She was stuck in a high school maintenance room with a self-proclaimed high functioning sociopath who, when bored, could do anything from shooting a smiley face into a wall to blowing up eyeballs for an experiment.

Molly leaned up against the cool wall and slid down. Once upon a time, Molly would have relished being stuck in a room with Sherlock. But, time had changed her and them. Ever since Sherlock had come back from the 'dead', he had begun distancing himself from Molly. He had managed to patch up his friendship with John, moved back into 221B Baker Street and his old life seamlessly. He did not contact her – at home or in the morgue – for at least two months afterwards. Even then, when he decided to grace her with his presence, it was usually only to look at a body for a case, use of the lab or to gain some body parts for an experiment. He never complimented her anymore to get what he wanted or even tried to make small talk. After living with each other for so long, Molly thought they had grown a little closer, even though he drove her bat shit crazy sometimes. But something had changed. So now, he would stride in to the morgue, demanded what he wanted or needed, and then leave. No conversation, no nothing. Molly had wondered what it was she had done wrong, but ultimately decided it was his problem, not hers. She needed a reason to move on from Sherlock, and by him acting the way he was, it was the perfect way to do it. That was until today, when he had texted her to help him with this case.

The pair sat at their respective spots for a few hours, not speaking to one another. Molly had taken her phone out and played some of the games that were on there, but gave that up as a bad joke after it became tediously boring. Sherlock had barely moved from his position. It was obvious he was in his mind palace, so Molly left him to it.

Molly was growing tired by about 1pm, so she leant up against two rolls of carpet underlay that were sitting beside her and closed her eyes. She thought if she were going to be stuck here with a man she was barely speaking to, she would try and get some sort of rest to try and wile away the hours quicker.

She had just drifted off to sleep when she heard Sherlock's voice. It was very close, so she opened one of her eyes to see where he was. He was seated opposite her, on the floor with his legs crossed and his hands resting underneath his chin.

"Sorry… what was that?" Molly asked in a voice laced with sleep.

"I said, that can't be comfortable."

"It's not, but it'll do." Molly was about to close her eyes and try to attempt sleep again, when she suddenly felt herself being pulled into an upright position and then a hand pushing her head down onto a warm shoulder.

"Is that better?" Sherlock asked in low, soft voice.

Molly's eyes were wide. She sat up and looked straight at Sherlock.

"What? Wait… hang on. What are you doing?"

Sherlock looked at her with a blank expression. "I was trying to make you more comfortable. Is that a problem?"

Molly glared at Sherlock, seething with rage. What the hell was he playing at? He hadn't spoken to her in months, and then suddenly he wants to be friendly and lend her a shoulder to rest on? She knew Sherlock hated confrontations about emotional issues like the plague, but dammit she deserved some answers from the man. What a better place to get them where neither of them have anywhere to go. She turned and faced Sherlock fully, her face like thunder. "What the hell, Sherlock?! You haven't spoken to me in months, treat me as if I'm some sort of peasant, then suddenly out of the blue, you text me to help you with this case – which you refuse to tell me anything about – and now you want to start acting all nice and friendly and like nothing has happened? No! I won't allow you to do this to me. I want answers."

Sherlock looked at her with a somewhat unreadable expression, and then looked away. He seemed to be deliberating over what he should say, when suddenly he reached up and put his hand around the back of Molly's neck, pulling her towards him until his lips crushed hers.

Molly was shocked to say the least. Sherlock was kissing her. She had always imagined kissing Sherlock in so many different ways, but nothing like this. But Molly was having none of it. If anything, the kiss made her even more livid. Molly put her hand up to Sherlock's chest and pushed away from him.

"Wha – what the hell was that?" She asked, sounding a bit breathless.

"I thought it was obvious."

"Yes. You kissed me. But why?!"

"Again. Obvious."

"Sherlock, you can't just kiss someone without an explanation! For a man as intelligent as you and who has such an advanced grasp of the English language, you have no idea how to use your words. You can be _such_ a child sometimes."

She stood up and walked over to the stool that was previously occupied by the man that was currently staring at her. Molly sat down and turned her back on him, not wanting to acknowledge him, or what had just transpired between them.

* * *

A few more hours passed, and once again neither of them spoke. It was around 7pm when Molly tried to tighten her jacket around her as it was getting quite cold. She cursed herself for not wearing something a bit warmer, but then again she hadn't counted on being stuck in a room with an overgrown man-child who was currently lying cross legged on the floor with his eyes closed and his fingers steepled underneath his chin. He had found an old bit of foam and was currently using it as a pillow. He rolled out some of the carpet underlay and was using it as a mat to lie on. His Belstaff was wrapped tightly around him as well and his scarf was wrapped around his mouth and nose. Molly had been stewing for the past couple of hours over the transgression that had occurred earlier, trying to figure out exactly why Sherlock had kissed her. He had said it was obvious, but it wasn't to her.

Molly sighed. She was sick of being in her own head going around in circles and she was sick of the silence in the room.

As if sensing what Molly was thinking, Sherlock spoke up. "Are you still angry with me?" Sherlock asked without opening his eyes or moving any part of his body.

"No. Well yes, but not as much as I was before."

"Good. Come here." Then as an afterthought, Sherlock added a "Please."

Molly swivelled around and looked at him. He was looking at her now with an almost pleading look. She sighed once more, stood up, stretched out the kinks, and walked over.

She stood over Sherlock with her hands crossed over her chest. Sherlock looked up at her with a look that always made Molly's legs turn into jelly. "Lay down with me."

Molly opened her mouth to let loose another tirade, when Sherlock cut her off. He rolled his eyes. "We both know that if we huddle together, we can create enough warmth to get us through the night."

Molly shut her mouth at that. Of course! How could she not think of that? She nodded her head in agreement. Sherlock then rolled to his side, opened up his coat and motioned for Molly to lie down. Molly unzipped her leather jacket and then laid down beside Sherlock, wrapping her arms and her jacket around him as best as she could. Sherlock wrapped his jacket around her, pulling her close. He wrapped his leg around Molly's, effectively trapping her in his embrace. Even though Molly was still angry at Sherlock, she couldn't help be revel in the fact that he was holding her, even if it was just so they could share their body heat. She could feel the underlying muscles in his chest through the fabric of his shirt. Molly bowed her head so Sherlock couldn't see her smile or the blush that had started to show itself on her face. Little did she know, Sherlock gave a small smile as well.

After a few minutes, Molly decided to pick up her courage once more and breach the subject she tried to bring up before, albeit a bit more tactfully.

Molly slowly lifted her head up and looked at Sherlock. "So. Are you going to answer me when I ask what that kiss was about?"

Sherlock sighed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "For someone as smart as you, I thought you would've been able to figure it out." He looked down at her with a soft expression on his face.

Molly was a bit surprised. That particular reason had floated around her head whilst she was stewing over on the stool, but she quickly dismissed it. Sherlock Holmes does not do feelings – especially those of the romantic type. But here he was, looking down at her with those magnificent blue eyes, boring into her, hoping the message was getting through.

Molly gave him a small smile, but she wasn't done questioning him. "But you haven't spoken to me in months. Why? What have I done that upset you?"

"You haven't. I had to distance myself from you. I don't do feelings or sentiment, but every fibre of my being was screaming at me to find you and kiss you. It scared me. But I have since realised that resisting is futile."

Molly's heart was hammering in her chest. Could she be so brazen as to try and get a confession of love out of Sherlock Holmes?

"So what you're saying is…"

Sherlock caressed Molly's face. "Is that I'm positive that I'm in love with you, Molly Hooper."

Molly took in a sharp intake of breath. He said it. He actually said it! But, could she believe it?

"I thought you didn't do sentiment."

"Usually I don't. Now can you stop talking? I would rather like to try and kiss you again. That is, if you promise not to push me away."

Molly took all of around point three of a second to make up her mind. She nodded slightly.

It was Sherlock's turn to smile. The hand caressing Molly's cheek was now under her chin, pulling her up closer to his face. Molly closed her eyes in anticipation. Finally, she felt Sherlock's warm lips pressing against hers ever so softly. Even with that faintest touch, Molly's whole body seemed to be ignited. She gave a slight moan, which encouraged Sherlock to further deepen the kiss by moulding his lips harder against hers. It was then Sherlock's turn to moan. Encouraged by Sherlock's response, Molly reached up one hand and ran it through his curls while she let her tongue slip out and caress Sherlock's bottom lip. Sherlock took the hint and opened his mouth. Then, their tongues were in what seemed to be a heated battle neither one of them wanted to give up.

After a few minutes, they broke apart, trying to catch their breath. Sherlock rested his forehead against Molly's whilst his hand was once again caressing the side of her face. Molly's hands were not idle, either. One hand was currently still tangled in Sherlock's hair whilst the other one was caressing the lithe muscles in his back underneath his coat. Molly felt like she was in heaven, but she wanted more.

Once Molly was certain she wasn't going to pass out due to a lack of oxygen, she pulled Sherlock back down to her in another heated kiss. Sherlock gave a very deep seated moan when Molly's tongue re-entered and explored his mouth. He took the initiative and rolled them both over so he was looming over her and nestled himself between her legs. Without breaking the kiss, Sherlock lifted Molly up slightly to remove her leather jacket and started to undo her blouse with what seemed to be expert fingers. Molly couldn't help but wonder if the nickname Sherlock had been given by Moriarty was true. This didn't seem like it was Sherlock's first time. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, not at all nervous or unskilled. Shaking her head slightly, she started to reciprocate. Her hands reached up and slid the jacket off his shoulders and then threw it beside them. With shaking fingers, she tried to undo the buttons on Sherlock's dress shirt.

Growing impatient with how slow Molly was going he broke the kiss and sat up, kneeling over her and removed his shirt. Molly was awestruck - he was so beautiful. She had imagined what Sherlock looked like underneath his tailored clothes time and again in her fantasies, but nothing compared with reality. She took in a small breath, and then reached up to run her fingers over his smooth, expansive chest. Sherlock had a look of pure desire written all over his face. His eyes were completely dilated and she could feel his heart thundering under her fingertips.

Emboldened by Sherlock's intense gaze, she moved both hands to his belt, fingers no longer shaking, undoing it as well as his button and fly and was about to pull his trousers down when Sherlock stopped her by grasping her wrists. He let them go and moved away slightly. Molly gave out a small cry due to the lack of contact, but Sherlock gave Molly a small smirk, and then continued with taking off his socks, shoes, and trousers. He then looked back at Molly with animalistic lust and crawled back on top of her, cupping the back of her head to bring her up into a searing kiss.

Molly's body was humming. She couldn't believe Sherlock was practically naked, hovering over her, kissing the daylights out of her. Granted, she never would have imagined finally taking Sherlock whilst they were both locked in a science maintenance room in a high school while they were on a case, but she wasn't about to question it. She was too absorbed in the moment, and at that moment Sherlock was currently nipping at the side of her neck, right at the spot that made her moan and buck up her hips, which in turn made Sherlock moan.

He slowly made his way down her collarbone, nipping and tasting all the way. Sherlock slipped one strap of her bra off, nipping at her shoulder, then repeated the action on the other side. Once that was done, he sat Molly up and reached around to undo the clasp of her bra. He laid her back down and removed the garment, revealing her pert breasts to his ministrations. He took in the sight before him, and then he lowered himself down and took in Molly's right nipple into his mouth while massaging the left. He sucked, and then blew on it until it was rock hard. He repeated the action on the left. Molly was moaning quite loudly, spurring him on. She was trying very hard not to scream out, but after a moment she remembered no one would hear them.

After ensuring Molly's breasts were well taken care of, Sherlock made his way down to her flat stomach, kissing and tasting whilst his hands ghosted up and down her sides. Molly writhed under his touch, moaning when Sherlock hit a particular spot. He stayed there, kissing and licking for a bit longer before moving on. Finally, he got to her jeans. Remembering she had boots on, he scooted down, removed them and threw them away. He was then back at the clasp of Molly's jeans and popped them open, letting the zipper down. Molly lifted her hips in order for Sherlock to shimmy them off.

Once they were gone, Sherlock pulled himself level with Molly, resting his hands on either side of her head, grazing her temples with light fingertips. He looked down at her with such amazement. He moved his hand downwards and grazed Molly's right cheek with the back of his knuckles, which Molly leaned into.

"You are quite beautiful." Sherlock said, quite breathlessly.

"So are you." She whispered back.

At that, Sherlock lowered his head and gave Molly another chaste kiss, which quickly turned passionate. Molly wrapped her legs around Sherlock's hips and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him to her. After a moment, Sherlock broke away. He rocked back onto his haunches and placed his hands on either side of Molly's panties, and took them off. He removed his own underwear and settled back in between Molly's legs. He reached down and ran a finger in between Molly's folds to test her wetness, playing with her clit. Molly arched her back and moaned loudly. He definitely knew what he was doing. His thumb was circling her clit with expertise, hitting and applying just the right amount of pressure. Molly didn't want him to stop, but she needed all of him. She sat up and moved his hand away, then brought their lips together. She lowered them both back down as she whispered "I need you." He gave a small nod, and took himself in hand positioning himself just at her entrance. Never breaking eye contact, he entered her.

Molly's eyes fluttered shut and an 'oh' escaped her mouth once he reached her core. He was filling her in a way she had never felt before. Sherlock hissed at the contact, relishing in the tightness of Molly. He didn't stop until he reached his hilt. He stayed still just for a moment, allowing Molly to adjust to his girth. He kissed her cheek, her neck, her nose, her mouth. Molly was in ecstasy. She had never felt like this with any of her previous partners, nor had any of them been this gentle or attentive to her body.

She let Sherlock know she was ready when she once again wrapped her legs around Sherlock's hips, this time locking her ankles together. She wrapped her arms underneath Sherlock's shoulders and held onto him. Sherlock started to move, finding a rhythm to suit them both. Sherlock lowered his head to Molly's right ear, panting and moaning softly with each thrust. After a while, Sherlock quickened the pace. He had one hand wrapped around Molly's knee, changing the angle slightly. That shot a wave of pleasure right through Molly's core. She moaned and keened.

Even though the room was quite cold now, they're bodies were covered in sweat due to their exertions. Molly was running one hand up and down Sherlock's back, whilst the other was tangled in his hair, pulling it lightly, panting into his ear and whispering encouraging words. Sherlock continued to rock into Molly, causing them both to make the most delicious sounds. Sherlock raised his head and rested it against Molly's. His mouth was in a permanent "O", and he was panting heavily. His eyes were closed, concentrating on the task at hand.

Sherlock lifted himself, and moaned as he pounded into her over and over. Molly could feel herself getting closer to the precipice. She felt like a tightly coiled spring, getting ready to be let loose. Her whole body was trembling and her muscles were starting to contract around Sherlock. She was practically screaming out, the pleasure coursing through her was so intense.

Sherlock's thrusts started to become erratic. He looked down at Molly one last time to see how undone she was, and then gave one last hard thrust before he shuddered and cried out as he came inside her. That was all Molly needed. She screamed out his name as she clenched around him, milking him for all he was worth.

Completely spent, Sherlock collapsed on top of Molly, resting his head on her chest. Molly hugged him to her, still trying to come down from the beautiful high. She didn't mind Sherlock's weight on her; she relished in it. Their bodies were slick with sweat and both of them were panting hard. She was sure Sherlock could hear her heart pounding underneath her breast.

After both of them had regained their composure, Sherlock lazily raised his head to look up at Molly. He looked quite dishevelled with his hair all mussed up, but the smile he gave her told her he was quite content. She smiled back and ran her fingers through his hair, trying to tame his black curls.

They stayed like that for some time, before Molly started to shiver. Their bodies had cooled and the cold was starting to seep back in. Sherlock removed himself from Molly to try and find something to cover them with. He eventually found an old fleece blanket over by the stool and came back to lie down. He took Molly back into his arms and wrapped them up.

Molly's brain was starting to whir and analyse what had just happened, but she told herself to leave it be. She just wanted to enjoy what they had just shared. It's not every day she gets to have amazing sex with the very man she had been fantasizing about and longing for.

Sherlock must've sensed what was going on inside her brain.

"Stop thinking."

Molly gave a small laugh. "I shouldn't really have to question you as to how you know I was thinking, should I?"

It was Sherlock's turn to give a small laugh. "No."

Molly then turned her head to look up at Sherlock. "You know, you seem to know your way around the female form. This wasn't your first time, was it?"

Sherlock took on a thoughtful look. "No. Back in university I wanted to find out what all the fuss about sex was about. So, I experimented."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Of course you did. I had always just assumed you were a virgin."

"Why? Because I don't openly talk about sex?"

"No, because you don't seem to be that interested in it."

"Normally, I'm not. But ever since I've met you, the need for sexual exploration has grown exponentially."

Molly gave a small laugh again. "Is that your way of saying you've fancied me since we've first met?"

"Yes. Now stop talking. I'm exhausted and need sleep. I'm guessing you do too."

Molly reached up and gave Sherlock a small kiss, before resting her head back on his chest and closing her eyes.

* * *

Both Molly and Sherlock were startled awake very early the next morning by a man whistling down the corridor. He was getting closer and closer to their position. Not wanting to be caught, they both got up and rushed around for their clothing. They got dressed as quickly as they could.

Just as Molly had finished putting her boots on, the door to the maintenance room opened. Sherlock grabbed Molly's hand and rushed towards the door. The janitor that had opened it looked quite shocked.

As they rushed passed, Sherlock turned and said: "Don't mind us. Just thought we would inspect the cleanliness of your maintenance room. It's a bit messy!"

With that, he and Molly ran down the corridor, laughing the entire way back to Baker Street where they encountered a very confused John in the lounge room as they both rushed passed and ran into Sherlock's bedroom, slamming the door shut and repeating their adventure from the night before.

* * *

**Hello me lovelies! **

**To celebrate Sherlolly Week over on Tumblr, I thought I would write this lovely one shot for you all. It's not the greatest piece of literature ever written, but it's smut, so who cares really. LOL!**

**I hope you enjoy it.**


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